


the better part of me

by Lyrishark



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Gets a Dog, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, deceptively this story is from steve's pov, or anything after that for that matter, wildly vacillating fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrishark/pseuds/Lyrishark
Summary: Steve wraps him in several towels and pulls the whole bundle into his arms. “Bucky, what were you doing?”Bucky’s still shaking like he’s going to fall apart. “You said,” he starts, but stops as he seizes up and his teeth chatter. “You said to follow the directions on the bottle…”Steve snatches up the shampoo bottle and scans the directions on the back. Lather, rinse, repeat.Repeat. Oh, god.“Bucky,” Steve says slowly, “how many times did you repeat this?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this on tumblr but it got really long really fast. updates sporadically whenever i have a new idea, so chapters will probably be short but frequent. rating might go up later, we'll see.
> 
> title from "dig" by incubus.

When Steve gets home, Bucky’s in the shower again. The water’s running and the door is shut. 

It doesn’t occur to him for another hour and a half that maybe Bucky is _still_ in the shower, hasn’t got out since the morning. 

He breaks the door down and the cold air slaps him hard in the face, the hot water long since run out. Bucky is hunched over in the shower, shuddering, running pruned-up, shriveled fingers through his hair. 

Steve wraps him in several towels and pulls the whole bundle into his arms. “Bucky, what were you doing?” 

Bucky’s still shaking like he’s going to fall apart. “You said,” he starts, but stops as he seizes up and his teeth chatter. “You said to follow the directions on the bottle…” 

Steve snatches up the shampoo bottle and scans the directions on the back. _Lather, rinse, repeat._

 _Repeat._ Oh, god. 

“Bucky,” Steve says slowly, “how many times did you repeat this?” 

Bucky looks up at him with big, frightened eyes. “Is two hundred and seven not enough? You interrupted, but that’s okay. I can keep going.” 

~ 

Steve sips his coffee, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. He never quite lost his taste for Americanos after the war, though they tend to taste much better nowadays. 

Sam finally joins him three minutes later, setting his laptop on the table next to his enormous, frothy, sugary drink. Steve raises his eyebrows at him as he props it open and pulls up their regular voice chat program. 

“Nat?” he asks, confused. 

Her voice crackles over the laptop speakers. “I’m here.” 

“I thought you were overseas on something sensitive.” 

“I am. Sam texted me that it was a national emergency, which is what he always texts me when you’re sad.” 

“Admit it,” Sam interjects, “that’s hilarious.” 

Steve ignores him. “What does he text you when it _is_ a national emergency?” 

“He doesn’t; Stark does. Out with it, what’s going on? Problems with the Winter Soldier?” 

“Bucky,” Steve corrects automatically. He’s not going to say more, but then the events of yesterday pour out of him in a flood, along with all of his protectiveness and fear and concern. “I’m trying to be more careful with the way I phrase things,” he finishes, “but I just feel like he needs somebody to be there when I can’t.” 

“Look, man,” Sam sighs, “I’d love to help you out, you know I would. But I’ve got other patients that already depend on me, and the kind of shit he went through‘s way above my pay grade anyway. Not to mention, the last time we met he tried to throw me through a window, so forgive me for assuming Barnes and I aren’t on the best terms.” 

Natasha gives a thoughtful-sounding hum. “You said he hasn’t been violent in a while, though. Get him a therapy animal.” 

Steve pulls a face, knowing she can’t see him. “I don’t know, Nat. He’s met your cat and they didn’t really get along.” 

“Mewcifur doesn’t get along with anyone,” she replies. She sounds proud. “Just try it.” 

~ ~ ~ 

As hard as it is to believe, Bucky is doing much better than he was. 

~ 

“Buck,” Steve calls from the kitchen, “what do you want to eat?” 

No response. He wasn’t really expecting one; Bucky hasn’t said one word in the half hour since he walked through the front door, surveyed the room, and curled up in a ball on the couch. Steve had covered him with a blanket, not sure what else to do. Bucky clutched it tightly to himself, not breaking his wide-eyed, distant stare. 

Steve pokes his head around the corner. Bucky still hasn’t moved. “Bucky? C’mere, come take a look in the fridge with me.” 

Bucky stands immediately, the blanket falling unheeded to the floor. He marches into the kitchen, still blank-faced, and stares into the refrigerator. 

Steve wants to kick himself. Of course Bucky would respond to commands, whether he wants to or not. He can’t take advantage of that, can’t use him the way HYDRA did. “I have macaroni, I could heat that up with some cheese. Would you like that?” 

Bucky keeps staring straight ahead, expressionless. 

“It’s not a trick question, Buck.” 

The tiniest wrinkle appears in Bucky’s forehead. “The asset does not ‘like that.’” 

“Okay, no mac and cheese. Is there anything that you do want to eat?” 

“The asset is to consume minimum eight thousand calories of nutritive protein mixture per twenty-four hour period.” 

Steve winces. “Let’s try something else, okay?”


	2. Chapter 2

It comes as a surprise to absolutely no one that Tony already owns a pet rescue agency. 

“Several, actually. This one’s not even really so much a rescue, per se, more of a rehabilitation center,” he says on the phone. “They’ve got these animals, and they’re traumatized, and some of them have superpowers, and nobody wants them, so these guys take care of them and train them and try to find them a home - that’s where you come in with wanting a snuggle buddy for Sergeant Robocop.” He pauses. “Other than yourself, obviously.” 

“Tony… Why are you doing this?” 

“What? I said I didn’t want to _see him,_ not that I was going to cut either of you off from my generous hospitality.” 

It’s not until he hangs up that Steve thinks, _wait, superpowers?_

~

“We don’t want anything with superpowers,” Steve says as soon as he’s introduced to Aisha, the tiny, dark-skinned woman who operates the rescue. “Plenty of those in our lives already.” 

“Of course, Captain Rogers.” She seems perfectly at ease with him, a welcome change from the usual awe and hero worship. “Mr. Stark called ahead and described what you might be looking for. We have several animals trained to provide comfort and emotional support. That extends to learning Sergeant Barnes’ schedule, and reminding him when to eat, sleep or take medication.” 

_They can do that?_ Steve thinks. “That would be perfect.” 

“If you’ll follow me then, please,” she says, and strides off down the hallway, low heels clicking on the tile floor. 

She takes them past several enclosures, Bucky following warily. He keeps his distance from the cats, maybe remembering his contentious encounter with Natasha’s a couple weeks ago. It seems like he’s interested in one of the dogs – sweet-faced and shaggy, with a tan spot like a mustache – but when Steve asks if he wants to pet it, Bucky shakes his head and backs away. 

“Well,” Aisha says, “you’re both welcome to spend as much time here as you’d like, to familiarize yourselves with the animals and get comfortable. We’re open six days a week, Monday through – _Magnus!”_ She raises her voice, peering around Steve’s waist to look behind him. “Stop that! Leave the nice man alone.” 

Steve turns to look, and sees Bucky leaning over to pet a short, squat little dog, whose tongue is hanging out happily. The way he’s leaning looks awkward and unnatural, bent over stiffly to the side like he’s a little teapot. His left hand scratches the dog’s ears with more enthusiasm than Steve’s seen from him in decades. He meets Steve’s gaze with wide-eyed alarm and confusion. 

“Magnus,” Aisha says again, and the dog lowers his ears, big sad eyes trained on her face. Bucky snaps back upright and nearly punches himself in the face with the recoil. “I’m so sorry about him. We can’t keep him contained because of his metallokinesis, so he pretty much wanders around doing whatever he wants. Don’t you?” 

Magnus pants cheerfully, mouth open in a smile. 

“Anyway, as I was saying, feel free to come back as often as you want, and –“ 

“I like him.” 

Steve blinks. It’s still a rare thing for Bucky to speak to someone who’s not him, and even rarer for him to interrupt. “You do?” 

Aisha’s brow wrinkles. “I understand you had some concerns about a powered companion. Magnus is very empathetic, and very intelligent, but he’s also still a dog. His powers make it very difficult to crate him, or keep things from him like toys or t-r-e-a-t-s.” She spells it out, but Magnus’ stubby tail wags despite her efforts. “Not to mention Sergeant Barnes’ prosthetic. Does that sound like something you’re willing to take on?” 

Steve looks at Bucky and waits for him to respond. 

“I like him. He’s… nice.” 

~

“So,” Steve finishes, “now we have a corgi with mutant superpowers.” 

Sam just laughs and laughs. 

~ ~ ~ 

In a certain sense, maybe it’s Steve’s fault. 

~ 

He’s given Bucky two more accidental orders in as many hours, and he’s about at his wits’ end. Bucky did eventually shovel down a bowl of macaroni and cheese, at Steve’s insistence that he eat solid food and not protein slurry. His speed betrayed how hungry he must have been, but otherwise he ate with an uncanny, blank-faced lack of enthusiasm. 

Since then, Steve’s been trying to draw a response from Bucky in vain, save for the time he said “look at me,” and Bucky immediately had, eyes dead and empty. Steve had withdrawn the command immediately, and watched Bucky go back to staring into the space straight ahead. 

He finally resorted to begging, until he asked Bucky to “give me something, anything,” and Bucky had given him the blanket. 

Steve wants to cry. 

Instead he asks gently, “You know I’m not your handler, right Bucky?” 

“Incorrect. Primary handler status accepted; override code: ‘end of the line.’” 

Steve recoils like he’s been struck. He keeps trying. “No, Bucky, we used to say that to each other, but I’m not your handler. I’m your friend.” 

“Designation: ‘friend’ rejected. You are not my handler?” 

“I’m not your handler, I’m your best friend, Bucky, you know me –“ 

Bucky slams him up against the wall, hand around his throat. 

“You know me, Bucky,” Steve chokes. “I know you recognize me. Who am I?” 

“Rogers, Steven G,” Bucky snarls. “Captain, US Army. Threat level Alpha.” 

Steve tries to claw the metal hand away from his throat, but to no avail. He twists and kicks out with his legs, but the world is starting to go black and he knows he doesn’t have much time. He can fix this later. “I lied,” he gasps. “I am your handler. And I’ll be with you… ‘til the end of the line.” 

Bucky lets him go. “Override accepted. What are your orders, Captain?” 

Steve rubs the bruises forming on his throat. He can work with this. He can make it work. “Well, first of all, we’re going to do some things differently from here on out.”


	3. Chapter 3

Steve wasn’t sure about Magnus at first, but it turns out the dog is worth his weight in gold. 

He decides this for several reasons. First of all, Magnus really has done a great job at adapting to Bucky’s schedule. Bucky isn’t on any medications – just the sight of a pill still leaves him paralyzed with terror – but Magnus reminds him of other things, like when to eat. He’ll bark a few times, and Bucky will get up and shuffle into the kitchen. If Bucky’s not up to moving, and Steve’s not home to help, Magnus will bring him one of the pre-packaged snacks they keep around the house. 

There were a few mishaps at first. Steve still has the picture saved that Bucky texted to him: Magnus beaming happily into the camera, a whole raw potato clutched in his mouth. 

There was also the first time Magnus tried to comfort him. Aisha had explained that if Bucky were to panic or dissociate, Magnus would try to ground him by licking his cheek or nose. That sounded fine in theory, but nobody anticipated how uncomfortable Bucky would be with things touching his face. He had scrambled away backwards, eyes wide and wild, chest heaving deep staccato breaths. He locked himself in his room for the next 22 hours. 

The next time, Magnus used his control over Bucky’s metal arm to pull it over to pet him instead. Steve watched with concern, not sure how Bucky would react to having his body controlled in such a way, but he just clenched his fingers in Magnus’ fur. After several long minutes, he added his other hand, running his fingers through the soft fluff on the dog’s sides. 

It still takes a while for Steve to warm up to the idea of a superpowered service dog. His hesitance lasts for several weeks, up until Magnus crawls into his lap while they’re watching a movie. Steve scratches him behind the ears, and Magnus snuffles quietly. That’s when Steve peeks over at Bucky, just in time to see him looking back, smiling for the first time in seventy years. 

~ ~ ~ 

Things have calmed down a lot. 

~ 

Steve knows he’s in over his head, as far as Bucky’s mental state. That’s not news to him, or to anyone. When he’d called this morning, Sam picked up the phone with a “'Bout damn time you admitted you need help,” in place of any sort of greeting. Bucky is going to need more help than Sam’s qualified to offer, but it seemed safer to start with a friend. 

Bucky had agreed to talk to Sam, as much as Bucky has agreed to anything lately. Steve had asked if it was okay. Bucky just stared at him. 

Thinking maybe that was too much pressure, Steve rephrased. “Sam is going to come over later this morning and talk to you. If that’s not okay, you can tell me and it won’t happen.” 

Bucky shrugged. “Additional personnel are frequently required for asset maintenance.” 

Steve hadn’t questioned that at the time, but he’s starting to regret it. Bucky’s backed himself up against the wall, feet braced like he’s going to launch himself at Sam at any moment. He’s making a noise that can only be described as a growl. Sam’s hands are lifted into the air by his sides, the rest of his posture friendly and non-threatening. “Nobody’s here to hurt you, Barnes, just chill, okay?” 

Bucky doesn’t move, but the way his whole body at once constricts in terror is obvious anyway, at least it is to Steve. Bucky’s jaw clenches, cords standing out in his neck. His pupils flare outwards. “Cannot comply with command,” he grits out. “Current facility does not contain necessary equipment for cryofreeze procedure.” 

Sam looks over at Steve, looking just as horrified as Steve feels. He turns back to Bucky, stepping toward him with his hand outstretched. “No, hold up, that’s not what I –“ 

Bucky steps forward, picks Sam up, and throws him into the wall. 

~ 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Steve says, patting Sam down for injuries outside. He feels a little guilty about ordering Bucky to stand down, but only a little. “He hasn’t been violent at all since the first day, I thought it wouldn’t be an issue.” 

“I’d tell you the outlook’s not good, but I got a feeling you already know, and you’re not giving up.” Sam grins ruefully. “You know I wanna help you out if I can, but maybe next time I’ll ask Rhodes if I can borrow the War Machine suit first.” 

“The War Machine suit is covered in guns, Sam. Maybe you can just talk to Bucky on the Internet. Scape?” 

“It’s called Skype, Cap.” 

~ 

When Steve gets back inside, Bucky is nowhere to be seen. 

He pokes his head into the kitchen and the study, then makes his way down the hall to the spare room where Bucky sleeps. There’s no noise from inside, but Steve can tell from the handle that it’s locked. 

“Bucky?” he calls, “Can you open the door for me, please?” He’s careful to phrase it as a question. He hadn’t been aware of how complete Bucky’s obedience programming was. He still doesn’t have all the details, but given that Bucky’s just shown that he’s compelled to obey even casual slang, it seems wise to be safe. 

There’s a long silence from inside, then some shuffling, and at last a click as the door unlocks. It doesn’t swing open, so Steve turns the handle himself and steps inside. 

The room is in dim and in disarray. Half of the lamp is embedded in the drywall, the other half scattered in shards across the floor. Several books lay face down on the carpet, missing most of their pages. Bucky is sitting on the end of his bed furthest from the door, facing away, his whole body curled in toward the wall. 

Steve sits down on the opposite end of the bed, careful to give Bucky plenty of space. “Nobody’s going to put you in cryofreeze, and nobody’s going to punish you. You shouldn’t have hurt Sam, but you were afraid, and I’m grateful you stopped when I asked. You don’t have to see him again if you don’t want to.” 

Bucky turns his head at that, giving Steve a suspicious look from over his shoulder. 

“You really don’t. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” A horrible thought occurs to him. “Bucky… you understand what it means to want something, right?” 

Bucky’s brow wrinkles in baffled incredulity. “’Wanting’ is forbidden. To want is for handlers only.” 

Steve swallows and blinks hard. He can deal with his own feelings about this later. “Well, I’m un-forbidding it, okay? I’m changing the rules. You can want things now. You’re _encouraged_ to want things. And if you want something that I can help you get, you’re encouraged to tell me.” 

~ 

It takes a few days. 

Steve’s lacing up his shoes for his morning run when he hears the soft steps of bare feet behind him. 

“Steve?” Bucky says. It’s the first time he’s used his name. "I want pancakes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's it for the expository angst flashbacks! steve and bucky will be existing solely in the present tense from here on out.


	4. Chapter 4

As it turns out, Bucky really likes pancakes. He also really likes deep-dish pizza, and Reuben sandwiches, and strawberry ice cream. The pizza is new, but the rest are all things Steve remembers him enjoying growing up. Sometimes it’ll be Bucky who gets it in his head to try something; other times it’s Steve who introduces him to something new. Either way, if Bucky likes it, they’ll be eating it for every meal for the next several days. Steve can’t find it in himself to begrudge Bucky anything, although he might be burnt out on marinara sauce for a while. 

Steve’s cooked a few things for Bucky as well, old standbys from their childhood – his ma’s raisin quickbread, Mrs. Barnes’ stew. He even found a store selling vintage candy. None of it nudges free any memories like he’d hoped, but Bucky does think the stew tastes familiar. 

It’s not all food. Bucky’s collection of soft blankets grows and grows, to the point where there’s at least two in every room – three, if you count the one wrapped around him like a cape. He likes watching instructional TV shows and YouTube videos: cooking shows, painting shows, even makeup tutorials. 

Inviting Bucky to ask for what he wants has opened the door to a seemingly limitless amount of ways for him to feel safe and find comfort. It’s much harder to get him to talk about what he _doesn’t_ want. 

~ 

“You know you don’t have to do whatever I tell you, right?” Steve had asked, feeling a little nervous about the conversation. Bucky seemed like he was making progress, so he was hoping this would go better than his last attempt to convince Bucky he wasn’t his handler. 

Bucky frowned. “Yes, I do. The Asset is to comply with any and all orders.” That was a bad sign. Bucky had been switching off between “I” and “the Asset” for a while, but he’d spent the past several days using “I” exclusively. 

“You really don’t.” Steve swallowed. If the conversation was going to go south, this was the time. “I’m not your handler, Bucky. You are. There’s no consequences for not listening to me. You’re the only one with the authority to decide what you do.” 

Bucky had mulled that over for a moment, but then his expression cleared. “So, if I tell myself to wear shoes, then I have to do it. But if I don’t tell myself to, I don’t have to?” 

“Yeah, yes, exactly, Bucky,” Steve choked out, devastated and proud in equal measure. “Only you can tell yourself whether or not to – to wear shoes.” 

“Good. I don’t have to wear shoes anymore. I don’t like them.” 

~ 

After the shampoo incident, it starts to become apparent that things aren’t as straightforward as they seemed. Bucky is much more stable, and he’s regaining his sense of self, his likes and dislikes – but he still can’t disobey a direct order. 

“Touch your nose.” Bucky touches his nose, looking at Steve with sad and helpless eyes. “Okay, sorry, you can stop.” Bucky stops. 

“It’s okay,” Steve continues. “We’ll keep practicing, you’ll be able to shake it off eventually.” 

Bucky flops onto the couch with a dejected pout. “What if I can’t, though? Maybe I’m stuck like this.” Magnus pads over and jams his head into Bucky’s hand to be petted. 

That’s something that Steve’s already considered, as much as he doesn’t like to. There’s still a few things they haven’t tried, but if worst comes to worst, Bucky will have to spend the rest of his life in a controlled environment. There’s no use in worrying him with that now, though. “You’re not going to be stuck like this. We’ll figure this out.” 

Bucky just looks at him dubiously. Then there’s a knock at the door.

When Steve opens it, there’s a beautiful red-headed woman standing there, and she’s not the beautiful red-headed woman he expects to show up at his apartment unannounced. She’s standing behind the wheelchair of an older gentleman, who’s bald and exudes a sort of quiet dignity. 

“Good morning, Captain Rogers,” he says. “My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my associate, Jean Grey. I apologize for intruding, but we’ve detected the activity of a powerful mutant in this area. We thought it wise to let you know. Perhaps you’ve already met them.” 

Steve’s never met Charles Xavier – or Professor X, as he’s affectionately called – but he’s familiar with his reputation, and how dedicated the man is to providing support and guidance to mutant youth. He’s also known as one of the most, if not the most, powerful psychics on the planet, with one of the only other contenders for the title being the woman with him today. It’s a little unnerving, not knowing if his thoughts are being probed at this very moment, but Steve puts the feeling aside. 

This is one of the things they haven’t tried yet. Steve had planned to wait a bit longer before asking for outside help with Bucky’s triggers, to give them time to work past it with just the two of them. It hasn’t happened yet, though, and having the X-Men show up at his door feels like a sign. 

“That’s actually probably our dog you’re sensing,” he tells them. “I’m sure he’d love to meet you, but first – Bucky?” Steve calls over his shoulder, “can you come here, please?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added some stuff onto the end of chapter four cause i wasn't super happy with where it ended. so go read that first!

“We can do that,” Jean says, “but it won’t be easy.” 

She’s explaining their options while Xavier scratches behind Magnus’ ears, the dog sprawled across his lap. They both look deep in thought. _Can he telepathically communicate with dogs?_ Steve wonders. _Is that possible? What do a dog’s thoughts sound like? Can he tell if he likes it here? I should ask if the brand of kibble we’re buying is okay, or if he’d prefer something else._

“It’s not as simple as one of us just going in and removing the brainwashing triggers,” she continues, interrupting his reverie. “Anything that we could have handled in that way, the two of you have already worked most of the way through on your own. What remains, the compulsion to obey… that’s more deeply seated.” 

“You said you can do it, though,” Steve says. 

“We can. Or, really, we can start the process. Whether it succeeds will be up to Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky circles his wrist in a “get on with it” hand gesture. Jean sighs. “We’ll have to send you deep into your own unconscious mind. You’ll be in a trance-like state, and won’t awaken until you’ve removed the programming.” 

“How?” 

“Your mind should naturally lead you to the source. Once you’re there, the experience is different for everyone. Sometimes it involves reliving the memories in question, but not necessarily. You might even have to ‘defeat your demons’ in literal combat.” She makes air quotes. 

Bucky nods, then hesitates. Finally, he says: “What happens if I can’t beat it?” 

“You can,” Steve says. He takes a step closer to Bucky, trying to somehow lend him some confidence by proximity. 

“Okay,” Bucky says, still sounding dubious, “but what if I can’t?” 

Jean bites her lip. She’s very young, and the gesture makes her look even younger. “We can try to extract you. But there’s no guarantee it’ll work, or that it won’t just make things worse. If we don’t do that… you’ll remain in a catatonic state. Permanently.” 

Steve and Bucky both stare at her in horror. 

Jean chews her lip some more. “We could send you both? You’d both be able to interact with each other and the environment.” She looks at Steve. “You could keep him from losing himself. But if it doesn’t work, neither of you will wake up.” 

“I’ll do it,” Steve says. 

“The hell you will.” Bucky’s standing straight up, fists clenched at his sides. 

The impulse to yell “the hell I won’t” right back is pretty strong, but Steve pushes it down. It might be nostalgic, but it won’t get them anywhere. He glances at Jean, and at Xavier, who seems to still be communing with their dog. “Can you give us a moment?” 

 

Steve pulls Bucky into his bedroom, just by virtue of it being the closest room with a door. He calmly closes the door, calmly locks it, calmly turns to Bucky and says: “I’m going with you.” 

Bucky sneers. “That an order?” 

Steve sits down on the bed. “You know it’s not. We don’t have to try this at all if you don’t want to. But if you do, I oughta be there. Trying to do it alone’s an unnecessary risk.” 

“You wanna talk about _unnecessary risk,”_ Bucky scoffs and leans his back against the door. “Puttin’ Captain America in a coma over some nobody with Swiss cheese for brains; that’s your _unnecessary risk.”_

“You’re not nobody, Buck.” 

“Bullshit I’m not. Not compared to the rest of the _entire world.”_ Bucky pushes off the door, spreads his arms wide. “Look at me. Are you really gonna tell me one man – especially one who’s done the things I have – needs you more than your country? More than the planet?” 

“You’re already assuming we’re going to fail. That’s not gonna hap –“ 

_“What if it does.”_

Bucky takes a deep breath. All of the anger and hostility seem to flow out of him on the exhale, leaving behind something small and vulnerable. “Look, I just… I can’t be responsible for that happening to you. I couldn’t handle it.” 

Steve buries his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. After a moment, he rubs his face and says, “I’m not giving you an order. You can make your own choice. But Bucky, please. I’m begging you.” He swallows. “You’ve – you’ve left me behind so many times before. Not because you wanted to, but… every time I lose you I think it’s the last. Please – you don’t have to, but I just – don’t make me do that again.” 

Bucky says nothing. The silence stretches out in long, painful seconds, oppressive and thick. Just as Steve’s about to give in, he feels the other side of the mattress dip. Neither of them moves to say anything for a minute, but the quiet feels different now, soft and fragile. 

Finally, Bucky huffs out a sigh, sounding amused. “Guess it’s not the end of the line yet, huh?” 

 

They walk back into the living room together, side by side, arms brushing, casually sharing strength. Magnus bounds off of Xavier’s lap to come headbutt Bucky in the shin. The two psychics look at them expectantly. 

“Okay,” Steve says. “We’ll do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me @lyrishark on tumblr


End file.
